


nodotaim (maybe in another)

by scorpeius



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:21:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3582645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpeius/pseuds/scorpeius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thinks of all the times it has been like this, and she wishes that she would not remember every memory of the past. She used to think of it as a gift. A way for her to find her, in every life, in every century. But as much as she wishes for it, fate does not work like that at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and in this crowd, i still search for you

**Author's Note:**

> So, I tried to write. Please bear with me! Here's another alcohol-induced fic, heh.

The air is cold and thick. Her hands are starting to feel numb from the biting coldness of the wind. Gloves in her pockets, already forgotten. She thinks that the heaviness of the ring in her right hand can compensate the surges of the cold, but it can’t. Not like it used to. And she thinks, for a moment, that maybe the meaning it holds does not mean as much anymore. Just for a moment.

Because one glimpse of a moving figure made her believe again.

After all these years.

It’s still the same shadow. Same figure. Same color of hair. Same throbbing in her heart. Same name that tickles her tongue.

Or was it her? She panics for a moment. And then it was gone.

It wasn’t.

Lexa almost stumbles in her steps. The crowd is as busy as ever, despite the indifference of winter. The same streetlights are blinking, the same enormous buildings still towering above her. And the emptiness that has always been there, never changing. It has always been like this. For years. She tries to remind herself of the times they weren’t.

Aiming for the other side of the road, she walks callous and uncaring, not minding the loud horns of hasty cars and impatient drivers. She does not have a care in the world, she thinks to herself. She could die right now and not mind, for she would still be alive the next moment in another body, with another life, in another time.

And it would still be the same. Every damn time. She still wouldn’t be next to her.

_Her._

She blinks purposefully. And when she has a clearer vision of the girl walking towards her, she was sure this time. It is her. Her mind is racing, to all those past lives that she has met her. Her heart is beating as fast as ever, to the same beat of the loud footsteps around. She stops midway. And she shouldn’t have.

Because just as fast as the figure came, she was gone. And she almost said her name, or her last. What would she call her now? Would she still have the same name like before and the life before that? Would she still remember Lexa’s? Would she have the same glimmer in her eyes when she see her too? Would Lexa ever know?

Just like that, the cars are passing by her, unforgiving and hasty, leaving her alone in the busiest streets of New York. Or what was once. They now call it the City of Light. And it’s not the same as before but it’s still as magnificent as what it has always been. The city of dreams, of wonder, of hope.

In here, she finds hope again. But hope is almost two blocks away from her now, from where she is standing – as still as the streetlamps and the buildings and the stars. Letting herself be killed by a fast car at this very moment would be the biggest regret of her current life. So she has to think fast, she has to will her feet to move faster.

And so she does. She turned around and is running now, pushing her way to the forming crowd that is waiting to cross the street, towards the same blonde hair that haunts her dreams and very existence.

 _Clarke._ She breathes her name in the night, her hot breath contrasting the unforgiving air. _It has to be her,_ she thought.

She runs, not losing the blonde’s figure in the busy crowd. She’s running and not giving a damn about the angry looks she gets from pedestrians and the cruel words thrown at her. And the distance between them is decreasing, and she can imagine those very blue eyes. She shouts her name.

“Clarke.”

It was as loud as the noise around them. The blonde does not hear her, and so she does not turn. She needs to be louder. So she screams again. And this time, she sees blonde hair whipping around and she sees that smile. That same smile. She almost thinks it was for her. But blue eyes are searching and searching, and that smile turns into a frown.

Lexa has never felt so invisible.

And when that blonde girl turns back again, facing ahead and continuing her stride, she felt just as helpless as she was five minutes ago. She almost grasps those petite hands and just pull her close. Until she sees another pair of hands holding them tightly.

It is only then that Lexa sees him. She swears she’s seen him before. Maybe it has always been him. _Finn,_ was that his name? She didn’t see the face clearly.

The distance between Clarke and Lexa are now increasing. And she can do nothing about it. So she stops walking, frozen like before. The sea of people are parting before her, trying to elude her like a permanent post is planted in the middle of the sidewalk.

She thinks of all the times it has been like this, and she wishes that she would not remember every damn memory of the past. She used to think of it as a gift. A way for her to find her, in every life, in every century. But as much as she wishes for it, fate does not work like that at all.

Her love would be with another. Maybe she met her too late. Sometimes, she would meet her, and it would be just that. She thought that maybe in those lives, they were not meant to be together. Most lives, she would not even meet her at all. For the world is as vast as her memory, and it is as cruel as her. As cruel as the version of her in the past– in her first. That, she refuses to remember at all. Not tonight.

And when it would feel like it would be another life wasted where they would not meet, when hope wears as thin as the ice that she’s threading, she would think of the lives where they _do_ meet. At the most perfect of times, or in the most exacting ways, where they meet – and fall in love. It is those lives that gives her courage the most. Where she can hold her hand, and she can kiss her lips, and she would be hers, and they would be each others. Where she could wake up each and every day next to her, and lay in bed at night with her cradled in her arms. Where she could feel the heat of her body, and she could feel her skin. Where she could be with her every single day, and every single night, until they can no longer be together and she would be able to do nothing but say goodbye.

_May we meet again._

_In another life._

Sometimes she thinks of telling her everything. Of how it has always been them, and how she remembers every life they had together. But she knows better. It might end the cycle, or it could mean that she might lose her forever. So she does not dare.

_She is here. I have found her._

Lexa smiles despite herself and heads to the other direction, the figure she yearns for the most now nowhere in sight.

If this is the best she will get in this life, she will treasure it dearly. It means a great deal to her now. It would mean that the soul of her love is somewhere near. And if she would just be patient, they would meet again someday.

Or if she would just be brave enough, maybe they could learn about each other again. And fall in love the way they do.

In this life.

Because right now, it is this life that matters. In this life, she could be hers, and they could be each others.

In this life, she would not make the same mistakes she did in their first – when she was a commander, and Clarke fell from the heavens.


	2. encounters

“Could you stop that?” A voice asks, not annoyed but not amused either.

“Stop what?” A very anxious Lexa replies, who has been pacing for a handful of minutes now but does not seem to have any idea how to stop.

“ _That_ ,” Anya motions in front of where she is sitting graciously in the sofa, “you’ve been like that for like an hour now.” Her voice is cool and resolved as always, and she’s not even glancing at the restless girl in front of her. She sighs deeply and closes the hologram device in her lap, turning her full attention to Lexa before saying, “If you are to say something, say it now.”

Lexa finally coming to a stop looks at her with dull eyes that Anya could not read, “I – I saw her.”

“Yes,” she nods, “you’ve been saying that an hour ago, Lexa. Tell me, what is bothering your mind?”

“I saw her,” Lexa screams mostly to herself, “I saw her and I did nothing! I mean, I tried to. But she does not see me.” Her voice decreasing after every word, like the hurt hit her just now. _Clarke did not remember me._ But where is the surprise in that? Clarke never had, not once had she remembered Lexa.

“Tell me who this woman is, again?” Right. Anya is not like her, she doesn’t remember. She should’ve talked to someone who does instead, but she knows none.

“ _Clarke_. I’ve told you about her. I’ve met her – a long time ago.” She says it distantly.

Anya is a smart woman, and Lexa respects her highly – but she could not share her secret to anyone, not even to her. She feels like it is a burden she must carry alone. She’s known Anya and all the different versions of Anya in the past as well. Maybe it’s how fate works. She is born near the same people she’s known in her first, sometimes even in the same family. She’s been her older sister once, now she’s a neighbor in the high apartment where Lexa lives in. Or the one she practically owns.

It came with the gift of memory, she decides. She has been a lawyer, a doctor, a politician – all in the lives she has ever lived. And with all the education and all the possessions she has ever acquired, she has practically lost interest in doing anything in her present one. Her possessions she has kept in a bank she built with another name. Her house that was once a humble home she now turned into a multi-leveled apartment.

But she isn’t always born in the same country. When she wasn’t, life would be hard. It is then that her memory would serve her well, and she would be exemplary in everything she do and have an instantaneous riches. Then she would fly back to her first home and there she would stay. Always in hopes that maybe Clarke would be born in the same place again. But she is always left hoping.

“Was I interrupting you in whatever you were doing?” Lexa asks, suddenly conscious of her surroundings. She has barged in into Anya’s home without a word and she just realizes it now.

“Not particularly.” Anya replies, giving her an assuring smile. “I do want to help you, but I cannot see what you are so bothered about. If you saw her today, then I am sure that you would meet her again tomorrow.”

Lexa looks at her and nods at her every word like she’s holding on to it with every last bit of her hope. _Tomorrow._

“Okay.” She replies with resignation.

“And why are you still here? Please don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten the party we need to attend to.” Anya grins and Lexa groans, she has almost forgotten.

She wrinkles her nose in annoyance, “Do I really have to be there?”

“It is _your_ party, Lexa.” Anya states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Because it is. “Why in the world would you not be there?”

“Then we must go.” She turns to her heels and almost got to the door before Anya got to her first.

“Not so fast.”

“What is it?”

“You are not going to your party looking like _that._ ” She eyes her younger friend from head to toe in disgust.

“Like what? What is wrong with how I look?” Lexa retorts, feigning innocence. She is wearing what seems to be exuding anything but glamorous right now and she knows it. She sighs when Anya does not lose her disapproving glare. “Fine. Yes, I am going to change first.”

“You did prepare for tonight, right?” Anya asks.

“I did. To try and be beautiful and perfect throughout the night just sounds so exhausting right now.” It is more of a formal party than a real party and her mind is already too tired. Important guests and people are going to be there. And this is a very important event, not for her own gain.

She doesn’t admit it to herself but everything that she has been doing these past years have all been for someone else. The art gallery that she has recently started is definitely not for her. She is anything but an artist. Clarke is. Or was. She hopes that she still is. And maybe this, the art gallery, the events, maybe they would bring her to Lexa. That has always been the plan. But she doesn’t admit it. Because she doesn’t want to hope, when all that hope has done is dishearten her every time.

She is doing this for her.

She hopes Clarke sees the flashing signs directing her towards Lexa.

She hopes.

“You need not try.” She hears as she walks out of Anya’s door and into her own.

 

* * *

 

 

The night is still young and Lexa is ready to face the people. It is still freezing outside, but once she steps down the car, it felt like an entirely different place. It is nerve-wracking and her palms are sweating and her eyes are as dead as the night. She must not look as how she feels – which is crap. She must not look like crap in her own party.

“Lexa.” She hears a voice of a man call her name from the end of the hall. When she turns to look, there he was. As handsome as he’s always been, dressed in classic tuxedo and bow.

She is grinning now and not as nervous as she was seconds ago. “Lincoln,” she calls back, pleased to see her colleague, who is both an artist and a very good friend.

“I was afraid that you won’t come to your own party.“ He laughs as he gives her a tight hug, knowing how nervous Lexa must be.

“Yeah, I almost didn’t.” She breathes in his shoulder with a smile.

He releases his grip and offers his arms for Lexa to hold onto. “But you did. And that’s all that matters. Now, shall we?” With a nod from Lexa, he smiles and led them together to the room full of people waiting for the host to appear. All eyes are on them the moment the spotlight finds them. There are applause and cheers and greeting from left and right. She knows she couldn’t take all these without Lincoln by her side. Lexa greets every single one of them with a very courteous smile, shaking hands and creating small talks with the important people whom she memorized the faces nights before. “You are doing great, Lexa. If you need me, I will just be around. I think I have seen someone who just caught my eye.” She hears Lincoln whisper in her ears before slipping away from her arms. She does not mind at all. She is looking for someone else tonight, after all.

The party is at its peak when Lexa saw someone that caught her attention. But for a whole different reason. She was sure this time. It was _Finn._ His long hair slickly combed back, and his eyes watching her as she watches him. Their stares are judging and hard, and it was Finn who moves first. Lexa is just planted in her place, standing her ground. His eyes never leaving hers as he moved towards her. It wasn’t like how a predator would stalk its prey, but rather, another predator joining in the hunt. She knows him, but what could he possibly want from her? As he inches closer, his glare turns soft and his lips forms a smile almost genuine.

“I’m sorry for staring too much. I hope you don’t take it the wrong way.” He smiles.

Lexa studies him for a few seconds, unamused at his antics, “Then may I ask why you were staring my way so hardly?” She questions him, still sounding calm and uncaring of his presence.

He smiles at her for a few seconds, “I’m sorry. I just felt like I know you from somewhere.” It almost made Lexa’s heart stop. _He knows._ But that’s not possible. “You _are_ the host of this party, right?” He supplies, noticing the reaction he got from her.

Lexa almost laughs at herself. Of course he does not know, he _cannot_ know. “I guess I am. Tell me, are you an artist as well?”

“No, not really.” He moves beside Lexa as they survey the crowd together. “Just an appreciator of the art, just like you.”

Lexa can’t help but stiffen at his words, like there are more behind them. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”

“I think we had. Or am I that not remarkable?” He says, his smile never leaving his face and is starting to infuriate Lexa. “Finn Collins,” he says, extending his hand for Lexa to shake. Lexa looks at it cautiously before meeting his eyes and shaking his hands.

“Pleased to meet you,” her eyes searching for any hints in his, “Lexa.”

She doesn’t notice Finn’s hands still holding hers for a moment before he pulls it closer to his lips, kissing her knuckles lightly. He utters a word that sent shivers to Lexa’s body. But she can’t be sure if she heard it right, because the room is roaring in applause and the music is particularly loud and a crowd is parting from the doors as two new guests arrived. She sees Finn walking straight to the crowd before she realizes who just arrived.

 _President Kane and his wife._ And behind them, a handful of what looks like aspiring artists, just as he promised Lexa that he would bring with him. And then she sees her. Blonde hair braided at the side. She is wearing a white gown that shimmers in the light. Then she sees Finn confidently walking towards them.

And she remembers the word he murmured before his lips touched her skin.

She is sure of it.

A word she has never heard for so long.

A name she was once called.

_Heda._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shall I continue this? Please let me hear your thoughts. If you notice some are being out of characters based on the show, I apologize. But I do think that in this au, things have changed and so have they. Or maybe that's just my excuse. Hah! Again, sorry and thank you.


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